


I Am Exactly Your Type

by ShadowKnight



Series: Ice Will Keep Me Warm [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Style, Femmeslash If You Squint, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Sexual Tension, Some Minor Het, Spoilers for S2E05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowKnight/pseuds/ShadowKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if it had been Isaac instead of Erica the one trying to rile Scott up on that fateful chemistry class?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Exactly Your Type

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missmishka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmishka/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Breathing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/463401) by [missmishka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmishka/pseuds/missmishka). 



> It's all missmishka, who pioneered this ship into this fandom and planted the most evil plotseeds in my mind.
> 
> My Isaac and Erica are a kind of a couple of assholes in this story, but that's just me trying to stay faithful to the source. They're more mellow later on, I think.

Isaac Lahey felt the familiar scent of Stiles Stilinski whooshing into the classroom as the hyperactive mess of a teen raced to a nearby seat. He was like a gale, and Isaac half-expected to hear a bunch of papers flying in his wake. There was a blur of words, a jumbled nonsense that was too fast for Isaac's practically non-existent interest to bother parsing. He got the gist of the message anyway.

Scott McCall spoke, a low "I think I already know," and Isaac felt both of their stares right on the back of his head.

Oh, yeah, he thought. Take it all in, boys. Isaac's back.

He smirked. The day was going to be _fun_.

Erica Reyes paused before some lockers, posing artfully as she whispered, "So Derek wants this done during Chemistry?"

Isaac nodded. "Yeah," he drawled, "and if it is Lydia, let me kill that bitch, all right?"

He wanted to do it. He really did. He had the power to make that fucking bitch pay for all the sneering and superiority, and he was practically pouncing at the chance to use it. So much _potential_ running through his veins, and finally ( _finally_ ) a target to use it on. Killing didn't mean anything. He was a werewolf. A predator. Killing was in his blood.

Erica cut his musing short. "We have to test her first," she reminded him, and he nodded. A formality. He could observe formalities.

She touched his new jacket. He smiled. He could sense her excitement as well. They were all alone, in a mission from their Alpha. They were practically giddy with the feeling of adulthood, of responsibility, of _power_.

It was a couple of hours later when they strolled into Chemistry class. Erica sashayed. Isaac smirked. They were so fucking _cool_ Isaac wondered how people could look at them directly. There was an analogy there where he compared Erica and himself with the sun, but it was summarily interrupted by the Dumbass Duo as they looked at them, wide-eyed, like they were _only now_ catching on the whole thing. Isaac guessed that not everyone could have both looks _and_ smarts like the two newly-turned Betas. And speaking of looks and smarts, there was Lydia Martin, sitting alone. It was almost _too_ easy.

Isaac looked back at Scott. What are you going to do, he silently asked. And then, McCall and Stilinski surprised them by beating them to their target. Hah, won't you look at that. Oh, but that was great, Isaac thought. He liked a challenge. He liked a little foreplay before the main course. Erica looked at him, amused. He grinned at her. They felt the same way. They took a seat behind them, watching their prey from a distance. Like wolves plotting a kill. Well... not _like_. They _were_ wolves plotting a kill. Heh.

Stilinski looked at them and Erica winked at him. Isaac knew of her little crush, but he said nothing. He respected her. And besides, it was more than possible that after the bumbling moron had ignored her for years, Erica's feelings would be more of a motivation to fuck up Stilinski's life than an impairment. Revenge was _such_ a bitch. And Isaac wouldn't have it any other way. And he suspected, neither would Erica.

Argent came in, shared some wordless dialogue with her boyfriend and looked at them as well. Erica gave her a sly smile. Isaac's smirk widened. Oh, yes. That just made everything so much better. Harris startled babbling about Einstein or something ( _wasn't this supposed to be a Chemistry class, rather than Physics?_ ), but then it was all made clear when the punchline to the lengthy setup was soundlessly delivered with a hand on Stilinski's shoulder. He had to give it to the man, he knew how to sass.

Isaac's eyes wavered from Martin to McCall and he found himself admiring the view. Not Martin, he had got over that pretty damn fast. Malicious rejection tends to do that to you. McCall, on the other hand... hm. Hmmmm. Stupidly adorable face. Puppy brown eyes. Naive heroism burning in his gaze. Cocksucker lips (Hah! Like it had ever crossed McCall's mind, Isaac betted). Fit body. Okay, _really_ fit body. Nice ass. Round, soft, squeezable ass. Isaac tilted his head. McCall had his legs open. Fairly standard bulge. Isaac wondered what his dick looked like. He thought back to the showers... yup, nice dick. Well, for what he remembered. His memory was blurry, though. He'd have to pay more attention next time.

Okay, so Scott was Isaac's type. He had the weirdest type. He wasn't into something specific, like redheads or beefiness. He liked nice, non-threatening guys. Of course, he could easily overpower any man now that he was a werewolf, but he couldn't really explain that to his body. And his body wanted _safe_ more than anything else. Often that meant shorter, smaller and the right look in their eyes, but he was flexible. Isaac wanted to slap himself for not noticing McCall earlier, he was just right up his alley. Well, in Isaac's defence, he tended to automatically ignore people who trailed after someone else like lovesick puppies, and McCall was nothing if not that. The way he followed after the Argent girl was frankly sickening sometimes. But now that they had broken up... perhaps it was time for someone to move in and help McCall get over his little high school crush.

"...or, in Mr. Stilinski's case, _less_ than one," finished Harris, and Isaac let out a small chuckle. Zing! That man was on a roll. "Isaac, you start with..." the teacher began, and he didn't have to turn to feel the bunch of raised hands. He was surprised, actually. He knew practically all the girls would've raised their hands, but if his hearing was right, more than half the male attendance was raising its hands as well. Hot _damn_ he was good. "I didn't ask for volunteers," uttered Mr. Harris, hatred practically dripping from his words. "Put your hormonal little hands _down_. Start with Mr. McCall."

And oh, that was just _perfect_. Isaac didn't bother keeping his winning smirk off his face. It was like the day literally couldn't get any better. He looked at Argent, doing a pretty good job at pretending she didn't care. Well, he thought, she probably would've found Erica a more obvious threat. That cleavage could move mountains.

Isaac played coy at first. He let McCall fumble with the chemicals like a child with his first chemistry set. He knew that he was mixing methanol with dextrose and titanium dioxide, and that mixture was not going to go _anywhere_ at all. The experiment was doomed from the start. But it seemed that Scott had other things on his mind, as he turned to Isaac with an urgent tone.

"Whatever you're thinking about doing, just _wait_. Give me a chance to talk to Derek," he pleaded, all puppy eyes and righteousness.

And oh, was that not just a big punch in the stomach. Way to deflate the moment, Scott. Go ahead and shout someone else's name during sex, why don't you. Scott didn't get anything at all. He was so fucking blind. _They_ were the ones in charge of the whole operation. Isaac and Erica, not Derek. Oh, but he could make him see. He could get back in the zone and have fun with the foreplay again.

"Why don't you talk to _me_ instead?" he drawled in his best sexy voice. He leaned forward, intruding in McCall's personal space like a pro. And then his nose was hit with a waft of sickeningly sweet girly perfume. He had smelled that before. Where...? Argent! Of course. "Huh," he mused, throwing a look at the girl in question, "that's funny. At school you guys act like you're all broken up, but she's all over you," he whispered. He was in on the big secret now with just a sniff. Man, was there something not completely awesome about being a werewolf?

McCall played dumb. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," he said, shaking his head. Isaac guessed if there was anyone who could get away with playing dumb as a viable life strategy, it was Scott. But he wasn't going to fall for it. The nose didn't lie.

It was time to change tactics. "If I were Allison," he started, placing a hand on Scott's knee (he flinched, by the way: Isaac: 1, Scott: 0), "I'd be wanting you," he continued, shifting his palm for a little friction, " _all the time_." Isaac's hand inched further up Scott's thigh. A waft of fear, a dollop of anxiety, a gallon of anger and a hint of arousal hit his nose. Fuck. Yeah. Isaac: 2, Scott: 0.

A couple of tables behind them, Martin was mixing chemicals like she worked part time at a lab, and noticed Isaac's little foreplay with just the right amount of prim and proper scandal. "You never get jealous?" she inquired innocently, but Isaac's ear knew better.

"Why would I?" replied Allison. Too fast, too soon. Staged. Fake.

"Because of that _thing_ going on over there," she said, her voice ringing like a bell on the word "thing." Isaac's hand inched further. It was already on his pocket. Cell. Keys. Wallet? "Might create some jealousy."

"Scott's not into that," Argent tried to brush it off, but Martin arched an exquisitely sculpted eyebrow at her.

"Danny tells me he's been getting close lately with the other boys," she paused, likely for effect, " _very_ close. Danny thought about asking him out, even, but he doesn't do the whole 'sexuality crisis' that Scott seems to be going through."

"Scott's not having a sexuality crisis," Argent replied stiffly, almost like an automatic reaction, "is he?" her façade of strength cracked like old glass on those last two words. Martin just shrugged and went back to her chemicals. She clearly didn't care.

Scott threw Isaac a puppy's best attempt at a death glare and oh, god, it was so adorable. Hilarious, even. Isaac held back the urge to laugh right in McCall's handsome face. He caught Isaac's hand in a surprisingly strong grip and forcibly removed it from his leg. "You're not my type," he whispered through gritted teeth.

Oh, fucker. Don't you dare (a part of his mind laughed like an asshole and said "Isaac: 2, Scott: 10"). Don't you fucking dare. McCall just did not fucking get how mindgames worked (the asshole part of his mind offered a counterproposal in the form of "or maybe he gets _exactly_ how they work"). 

"I'm _exactly_ your type," he growled angrily, grabbing the stupid fucking kid by the back of his head and giving him a nice full view of some kick-ass glowing amber eyes. He was a werewolf, dammit, not some hunter tramp. And he was _hot_. He couldn't be anything _but_ hot, the bite had made sure of that. And he was tall, dark and handsome, _exactly_ Scott's type, if his choice of girlfriend was anything to go by. And he had smelled the arousal when Scott felt a strong hand on his thigh, Isaac hadn't imagined that (after all, there wouldn't be as much anger and anxiety if there hadn't been something to hide), so McCall needed to stop pretending everyone was as dumb as him, and get some fucking self-awareness.

But then Harris rang his silly little bell and they had to change partners. Fine. He would observe formalities. But there would be a reckoning. Oh, yes.

He sat next to Stilinski, and the kid's annoyance really helped clearing the rampant anger he had just experienced. It put him right back in his zone, right back in a good mood.

There was a threat, something about strawberries and birthday presents.

"Huh, really?" he said, trying to look impressed. "I've never actually been to one of her big, invite-only birthday parties." He paused, for effect. "I did ask her out once, though."

"Sounds like the beginning to a heartfelt story," Stilinski muttered with scorn. Oh, yes, Isaac was back on the game. "I'm gonna pass, thanks."

"First day of Freshman year," Isaac muttered, taking a leisurely stroll down Memory Lane. It didn't hurt anymore. It didn't make him feel humiliation or shame. He was above such petty things now.

"You thought everything was gonna be different for you in High School, but she said no," he continued, still with no small amount of scorn. Oh, so he knew how the story went. Probably been there himself. Well, him and half the student body.

Isaac chuckled, "and she even laughed. Told me to come back when the bike I rode to school had an engine," he said mirthfully. Looking back on it, he had felt _really_ angry back then. Getting rejected by the perfect girl and then humiliated for not being up to her standards was a bruise to his ego that had taken a hell of a long time to heal. But now he was powerful, he was hot and that bitch's insults were dust in the wind in comparison. He didn't even want to date her anymore. If she threw herself at his feet, he'd just walk away. He was better now. He didn't have to settle for Lydia Martin.

"Unrequited love's a bitch," Stiles said, and oh, wasn't that rich coming from him. "Maybe you should write about it in English class. Channel all that negative energy," he snarked. Hah! Oh, another puppy pretending to be a grownup. Only Isaac had no pity for Stilinski.

"Nah," he muttered nonchalantly ( _he was enjoying this_ ), "I was thinking about channelling it into _killing_ her." He savoured the word like chocolate; heavy, dark and flavourful on his tongue. Oh, Stilinski's reaction was just a nice big gulp of fear-lemonade. "I'm not... very good at writing," he continued, faking innocence. He could do charming badass so well ("you're not fooling anyone" said the asshole in his head).

Harris rang his stupid bell again, but this time, he had an almost serendipitous timing. He walked away the winner, as always. The asshole in his head just laughed at him.

Erica sat next to Lydia. Isaac sat on a table far behind and smirked, pleased. Argent slid to a seat next to him. Oh, joy! Now things were finally getting interesting.

"What are you going to do to her?" Allison asked, wasting no time. So Argent of her. Straight to the point. No time for games. No time for fun.

"Don't you think the better question is 'what's she going to do to us'?" Isaac replied with his best attempt to channel McCall's puppy eyes. Allison looked at Lydia, concerned, but the redhead ( _strawberry blonde!_ ) just rolled her eyes.

Scott looked back at them, sour raspberry-jealousy reeking from him in waves. Isaac grinned. He was catching up to McCall's score. "You guys are cute together," he drawled, "but you're not gonna last. Not with me in the way," he continued, his grin taking on a profoundly wolfish quality.

Argent remained composed. Isaac afforded her a smidgen of respect for that. "You think you can hurt me," she said evenly, "by sliding your hand up his thigh."

Isaac gave her a mockingly concerned look. "Would you like it better if it was your thigh?" he offered helpfully. He placed his hand, claws out, on her leg. Argents got the claws, just the way it was. The wolfish grin made a reappearance on his face. "Come on," he whispered intimately, like a lover, "make out in class? It'll be _hot_." He lightly ran his claws from her upper thigh to her knees, enjoying the way her pantihose ripped under them. She shot him a death glare that was actually respectable. But being around Derek so long built an immunity to glares in his Betas.

Harris rang his little bell for the last time and announced the end of the exercise. Isaac looked at Erica holding a perfect crystal with her tongs. She was paired with Martin, of course. Everything that girl did was just perfect. Erica admired the crystal and gave Lydia a sultry gaze.

"...you can _eat_ it," Mr. Harris announced, and Erica offered Lydia the crystal, dripping with the kanima's poison. The little genius took the crystal like it was no big deal and held it over her open mouth. Erica's gaze was filled with anticipation. Isaac smirked confidently. It was the moment of truth. The moment to observe formalities.

"LYDIA!!" Scott yelled like a lunatic right as the kanima's poison dripped on her tongue. There was a moment of stillness, as if time had slowed to a crawl for the climax of the play. The audience was holding their breath, unwilling to break the spell the actors had cast upon the stage. Ah, but time continued as always, and the absence of symptoms meant proof of guilt. The dark coffee-like scent of trepidation filled the room, along with the pungent wolfsbane smell of horrible realisation. "Nothing," muttered Scott as he returned to his seat. Another scent wafted to Isaac's nose. Dead roses ( _no, sadness_ ). He almost felt sorry for Stilinski, but then he realised they were doing him a favour. Now he'd finally get over that stupid bitch.

McCall and his band of losers disappeared as soon class was finished. Isaac and Erica took their sweet time walking through the halls, leaving their stuff in their lockers, just relishing in the fact that _ding dong, the witch is dead_. Or would be, quite soon, at any rate. Isaac's claws scraped against the metal of the locker row. He wasn't fond of the sound, but the vibrations it sent to his fingers were thoroughly enjoyable. It was killing time, and it would just be terribly rude to keep a dead girl waiting. Erica twirled in place as she walked, sharing an excited grin with him. Fuck yeah. It was their time to shine. The two outcasts of Beacon Hills High School, now the stars of the show. God, revenge was the best fucking bitch _ever_.

Isaac stopped in the middle of the hallway. Expensive perfume. Annoyance. Superiority. Lydia. At the library? He extended an arm to stop Erica in her tracks. It was time for the main course. But ah, the library was empty. That was disappointing. The scent was fresh, she wasn't far. Two geeks at the table. Grabbing one was as easy as lifting a ragdoll.

"Where is she?" he asked with the badass tone he had been practising. Came off pretty damn good. The geeks exchanged glances, confused. Great.

After tracking her through the school to the parking lot, Lydia's scent disappeared in an acrid whorl of smog. It was still there, only faint. And it had Stilinski's sharp, panicky scent, Argent's sweet-girly perfume and Jackson's body spray all around it, like coils of multicoloured ink underwater. Meeting up with Derek and Boyd confirmed Isaac and Erica's suspicions. McCall wasn't _quite_ as dumb as he seemed, and underestimating him had cost them a quick kill. But that was fine, they had all night. Tracking the scents was easy for Derek, and proved an impromptu exercise for the rest of the Betas. Eventually they ended up at McCall's house. They stood right across the street from the front door and waited. It was a siege of sorts, and wearing down the defenders' wills was the most important part.

Boyd went scouting when the sun finally gave up the ghost and the cover of darkness finally decided to show up to the party, fashionably late. The youngest Beta gave them the low-down on all the ways the fools hadn't secured the house. All the windows they could sneak through. The back door was locked, so at least it wouldn't be a complete cakewalk. Coming up with a plan was easy. Scott was on the way, of course, so someone had to stay outside to head him off. Boyd volunteered for the task. He had a beef with McCall. Who _didn't_ have a beef with McCall in Derek's pack? That kid was all sorts of trouble.

"Ladies first," Isaac told Erica with a grin. 

She tipped an imaginary hat to him and slunk into the shadows for a nice surprise. When he saw Stilinski and Argent distracted by something behind them, Isaac made his move and sprinted towards the side of the house. It didn't take him long to hear Erica tossing Stiles around like a cat playing with a scared, ADHD-addled mouse. Argent had taken off, presumably to shield Jackson and Lydia from the Betas and their uncomfortable truth. _Ding dong, the witch is dead, but she doesn't know it yet..._

Isaac kicked Scott's room open. Argent was waiting for him. Sickeningly sweet perfume and sharp smell of metal and plastic ( _oh, crossbow, how cute_ ) and just the slightest hint of _wrong_. But he didn't care. He was a winner. He followed the laser on Argent's weapon to a red dot over his heart. Adorable. He chuckled.

"Hm," he sighed for effect. "This might make me sound like an asshole, but I always wanted to steal someone's boyfriend," he confessed with his trademark drawl, smirking like a dick. Because, okay, yeah, he was a complete asshole. But fuck, it felt so good. "I bet it's a pretty _sick_ rush of power," he added, almost giddily. Argent didn't say anything. Didn't move. Isaac guessed he had to be a little more obvious. "I think I'll try it with _Scott_ ," he said in the same way someone might say 'I think I'll try red wine today!'

He laughed at her. Fuck, it felt _really_ good to win, for once in his life, to openly wield the upper hand.

"You know," Isaac continued, growing ever more excited at the little game he was playing with the pathetic hunter-wannabe. "I don't think it's going to be that hard," he mocked her. "Because why would he wait around to steal ten minutes with you, when he could have _me_ any time he wants?" he asked her with enough condescension to drown a whale. The emphasis in the word "me" was so heavy it could have broken through the floor. Allison's eyes hardened and her finger tightened on the trigger. She was close. All she needed was one tiny push. "And just between you and me," he began, his voice dropping to a complicit, dirty whisper, "I think he likes cock more than he ever liked _you_."

That did it. Argent squeezed the trigger and shot a bolt straight at him. Isaac caught it with barely a problem. He had been practising. He looked at her, saying 'bitch, please' with his eyes. "Hah hah hah," he laughed, slowly and not entirely artificially. Power made him giddy. "You didn't really think that would work, did you?" he asked her, drowning whale after whale with his condescension. A tingling feeling started spreading through his palm. The feeling of victory.

She finally spoke. "Actually, I did," she said. And why did she look like she had won? _Isaac_ had won, not her. He was just toying with her. The tingly-numbing feeling climbed up his arm.

He looked at the bolt. He couldn't feel the wetness in his palm, or the coldness of the metal. He couldn't even feel himself holding the bolt at all. The tingling-numbing feeling reached his shoulder. Oh. Oh she didn't. Fucking bitch. He opened his hand weakly and took the crossbow bolt with the other hand, careful not to touch the wetness ( _but it was too late_ ). The asshole in his head laughed again. He looked back at Argent. She was smiling. Fucking bitch. Isaac's knees failed him so suddenly he let out a surprised gasp. He fell to the floor like a human-sized sack of potatoes. Argent tilted her head, basking in her cheating, deceitful victory.

Isaac watched her walking over him to the doorframe, then stopping right next to his prone form. She knelt and almost pressed her lips against his ear. He could feel her breath against his cheek, orange-minty satisfaction ( _the scent of jasmine meant triumph and oh, how it reeked from her every pore_ ). "You're not in the way any more, are you?" she asked with mocking innocence. "Asshole," she added for good measure.

Argent walked away. Bitchwalked away.

They left Isaac paralysed on the floor for a while, while Scott showed up out of fucking nowhere ( _sneakiness has no smell_ ) and helped Stiinski and Argent take down Erica. McCall came for him afterwards, and tossed the both of them out on the grass, to Derek's feet, like that day at the ice rink. As if to say "Here, take them back" or "These goons: yours?"

And then Derek compared McCall ( _Scott Fucking McCall!_ ) to an Alpha and Isaac was suddenly glad he was paralysed, or else he would've felt so fucking furious he would've hurled himself at that infuriating little werewolf with the wrath of a thousand burning suns. Now it was personal. It was one thing to play games and slap each other around, but humiliation? Fuck that. Isaac Lahey didn't do humiliation any more, not after the bite.

He'd get Scott Fucking McCall and Allison Fucking Argent back even if it was the last thing he ever did.

...

The next day, though, he didn't feel so angry. A good night's sleep cleared his head (along with the kanima's venom) and took the edge off his humiliating defeat. Now he was just... confused. What _was_ McCall's secret? Merely being a few weeks older? Was whoever bit him a better Alpha than Derek? Was it true that he was an Alpha? How did that work? McCall couldn't be an Alpha at all, his eyes still glowed gold. But perhaps Stilinski and Argent gave him some amount of power. Minimal, perhaps, on account on them being human... but it was a theory not to be discarded so easily. He couldn't underestimate McCall any longer. Now he had to regard that... dumb puppy as an actual adversary, someone to overcome and measure up against.

Or maybe he could get on his good side. Maybe all that antagonism wasn't productive. Maybe it wasn't healthy.

Scott remained on Isaac's mind for a long while. Sorting out his feelings was harder than he thought ( _how do you tell so many different smells apart, when they're cloying your nose like someone shoved fistful after fistful of petals in there?_ ), and Isaac ended up not being able to tell if he really wanted to fuck McCall because Scott was hot, because he wanted to get back at Allison or because he actually liked the dude. 

He hoped it wasn't the latter. He didn't like the smell of red roses. 

They died so easily.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, we need more Scott/Isaac. Seriously.


End file.
